


Oh So Tired...

by LoveDrift



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Cuddling, M/M, Mentions of Rape, mentions of previous abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 15:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveDrift/pseuds/LoveDrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wing is sick, and, quite literally, tired. Tired of having his recharge interrupted every. Single. Night. By Drift. Something is wrong and Wing just has to help. It's time for the two of them to have a talk. A long talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings yet. Slight mentions of rape and beatings...more like hints. I'll post warnings as needed. Title sucks... I didn't beta...didn't really proofread..it's late...or early...your pick and I'm tired lol so forgive me. I hope you all like! Chapters will get longer...

“Don’t touch me,” Drift snaps at Wing.

Wing pulls back as if struck, “I…I am sorry, Drift, it was not my-“

“What’d’ya want anyway? Bad enough you toss me around and beat me every damn day, and now ya wanna during the night cycle too? So fraggin’ typical…” Drift snorts, continuing to glare at the perfect city, sprawled out in slumber below.

Wing is taken aback, his wings slumping down, truly hurt. “No…I…that’s not it…it’s not like that…you just looked so sad…I only wanted to offer comfort…”

Another snort. “Yeah right. You’re all the same…”

Wing reaches out again, feeling the raw hurt and anger buzzing in Drift’s field. The poor mech is drowning in pain and it breaks Wing’s spark.

Drift whips around and snarls. “I said DON’T TOUCH ME!!”

Wing staggers back for only a moment before he pulls the slightly smaller mech into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Drift growls angrily when grabbed and struggles against the jets embrace, trying his best to get away. His finials turn red and his cheeks flush with heat, when he realizes that, despite his struggles, the speedster so desperately craves the comfort Wing is offering. 

“Why the frag do you all have to be so Primus damned touchy-feely all the fragging t-time?!”

Unaware to Drift, Wing picks up on the speedsters field. Oh, Drift, you can’t even hide your need to be loved and comforted. What have they done to you? Wing’s spark just aches for Drift and he now refuses to let him go, determined to get to the bottom of this. Be damned if Wing will let him go now!

“I think the better question, Drift, is why are you not willing to let me touch you…soothe you…comfort you? Please talk to me, Drift. I will not hurt you, nor do I have the desire to do so.”

Yeah right. Lies. This is how it always starts. Drift frags up. Yells…disobeys…something. Whatever. All leads to pain. But will he tell that damned jet that? Pit no!

“Let. Me. G-Go!” Drift snarls.

“No. This ends here. Tonight. I wish to help you, Drift. Why will you not let me help you? This happens every night. You toss and turn, you whimper…you SOB. In your recharge. Every night, Drift. Then you wake and go out on my balcony gasping for air. You are angry and miserable and distraught for the rest of the night cycle, and you cannot enter a peaceful recharge or even recharge sometimes for the remainder of it.”

Drift snorts again, followed by a smug little chuff of sound. “Oh, well just pardon the little guttermech for disturbing his rich captors recharge. Primus forbid!”

“Damn it , Drift! Do you think this funny?! I know I certainly d—“ Wing immediately stops, his spark shattering when the mech in his arms flinches and trembles, tensing up as if he’s expecting to be hit. Oh. Oh no…Drift…

Drift trembles, tense in Wing’s arms, expecting any moment now to be beaten and then taken. Roughly. Probably medibay roughly. He knew it! He just fragging knew it. And oh how he really didn’t want it to be Wing that did it. He so wanted Wing to be different. Wanted it so badly. Why couldn’t it be different? Why is it always the same thing? He trades one prison for another. This one is better than the other two, but still a painful prison none-the-less. And who knows what these fancy mechs are into. Drift feels his intakes hitching and his trembling turn to shaking. And he’s helpless to stop it. Here we go…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's a little longer lol Again, no beta and I can't sit any long in this chair to edit cos it's killing my knees...so I'll just casually leave this chapter here. lol Enjoy! Hopefully! lol

“Hey…hey now, it’s alright, Drift. I swear to you. I will not hurt you,” Wing gently nuzzles the badly shaking speedster in his arms. He almost—almost—tells Drift to quiet down, but this is the most emotion—aside from anger and sarcasm—that Wing has seen from him. Drift needs a safe place to let it all out, not to continue to hold it all in. Primus, the poor mech must be so lonely and tormented! 

Drift lets out the tiniest of whimpers when he’s nuzzled. He’s so terrified of being hurt, and yet so desperate to be comforted—to believe Wing. He can’t handle it anymore. Is it too much to ask to just be touched without pain or fear of pain? Maybe if he just pretends…It might be alright then, right? Maybe just a little? Wing IS holding him…maybe… Drift tentatively wraps his arms around Wing and then clings to him for dear life, his shaking now turning to an accepting shiver. Oh please…please let this be okay. Please.

Wing cycles air in a relieved sigh when Drift wraps his arm around him, the desperation in the way Drift clings to him, triggering something deep within the white jet, and he tightens his embrace on the Decepticon. Wing floods his field with comfort and protectiveness, love beginning to bloom within his spark. 

The pair remains locked together, no words uttered between them, the only sounds wafting up from the city below. Slowly Drift’s shivering ebbs away, the tenseness in his frame dissipating like morning fog in the world above. 

That’s progress, Wing thinks to himself. New frame steps, Wing. New frame steps. Afraid to break the calm that has cautiously settled, but needing to stretch his frame, the jet dares to whisper, “I’m here , Drift, and I will never let anything happen to you ever again. I promise. You have my word as Knight. Would it be alright if we went inside? We can sit on my berth—“ 

At the mention of the berth, Drift tenses right up again and attempts another escape from Wing’s arms, icy tendrils of fear slithering their way back in.

“Just sit, Drift. Nothing else,” Oh, Drift…please tell me they didn’t hurt that way too. Primus. That explains a lot. Damn it. Wing will have to have a talk with Redline.

“Drift, please understand I would NEVER—ever—hurt you in that way,” Wing feels Drift shift and his frame go as taut as an energon bow, disbelief and fear rampant in the speedster’s field.

_Perhaps if I try some humor? Primus, help me…_

“Drift, I happen to like my berth partners willing and right now, sweetspark, I think the last thing you need right is to interface…though I would thoroughly blow your circuits,” 

And now Wing really wants to make love to Drift; to show him how beautiful and loving it is to share pleasure together. He cannot even fathom such a heinous act as to force yourself on another. To take something beautiful, intimate and sacred, and twist it into something terrifying and brutal and cruel is just beyond anything the jet can comprehend.

Drift snorts at Wing’s attempt at humor and the fact that the jet is brazen enough to think he can actually, first off make Drift overload, and second, blow HIS circuits? Oh no, no, no, all those years selling his only asset taught him a thing or two about ‘blowing circuits’, among other things. The distraction proved enough to allow Drift to relax a bit and try to work things out. He works his bottom lip between his denta as he wrestles internally between actually trusting that damned jet, pretending to, and telling him to frag off. Either way, worst case scenario, he’ll be beaten and raped anyway. Best case? Well, best not to get his hopes up on any of that slag. So why not just try and trust? Just this once. Wing SEEMS nice enough and he hasn’t hurt him outside the sparring facility…and even then it’s not THAT bad considering Wing could kill him very easily. And mech does that hurt to admit! What the frag is happening to him here? Why does he feel like sobbing? Drift feels tears well up in his optics and with a reluctant half sigh, half sob, looks up at Wing and nods, a few tears sliding their traitorous way down his cheeks.

As Wing patiently waits for Drift’s internal struggle to play itself out, the jet vows to love, protect, honor, nurture and teach this fragile, vulnerable, truly good spark in his arms no matter what. Wing smiles lovingly and uses his thumbs to gently wipe away Drift’s tears. 

“Thank you, sweetspark,” Wing’s optics twinkle and his smile grows wider at the startled expression and pink finials on the mech in his arms at the use of ‘sweetspark’. Adorable. 

“I know how hard this is for you, Drift, and I will not betray your trust. I promise. Shall we go inside now?” Wing for the nod and gently leads Drift inside, embracing him the entire time


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the shortness of the chapter, but this came over me like a freight train and I had to purge it from my mind and then post it. Yeah. Been a rough few nights.

Wing leads Drift over to his berth, keeping his arm around the speedster, and his field pulsing with calm/safe. The jet squeezes Drift's shoulders and sits on his berth, scooting back so he can lean against the ornate helm board, legs folding and crossing under him. Wing watches Drift as he stands in place, tense, his frame shaking a little as the swordsmen stares at the berth. 

"It's alright, Drift. You may sit whenever you are ready, wherever you feel comfortable. You can even sit on my lap i-if you like as well," Wing smiles warmly, his field reaching out to brush against Drift's with comfort and reassurance. 

For a moment Drift is lost in a memory from his first cycle serving under Turmoil:

_"Come here, Deadlock. Have a seat," Turmoil pats the berth in silent command, expecting to be obeyed._

_Deadlock reluctantly takes a seat at the edge of the berth,memories of the Dead End coming back._

_"That's a good mech," Turmoil purrs. "Come closer,"_

_When Deadlock hesitates he is forcefully yanked over by his finials._

_"When I give an order, I expect it to carried out immediately!" Turmoil dents Deadlock' s finial and flips the terrified speedster over..._

Drift moves in a trance to sit beside Wing on the berth, his trembling getting worse. He pulls his field in tight, the gentle brush of Wing's field against his not even registering. 

"Drift? A-Are you alright?" Wing frowns at Drift's sudden change in behavior and starts to unfold his legs to come closer to Drift. 

The sudden movement from Wing combined with the memory feedback, triggers training and coding that has been drilled into Drift, springs to life once more. In the stroke of piston Drift is on his front, chest pressed to the berth, aft high in the air in front of Wing, valve panel and cover open, ready to be 'faced. Drift grips the blankets in his fist and stares vacantly at the wall, cursing his stupidity. It's always the same. Such a fool he is. They're all the same. He braces himself for the pain, unable to help the tears that sting his optics as they shamefully slide down his face onto the berth. 

Wing gasps and covers his mouth, staring in horror at the spark breaking scene before him, his spark shattering into a million pieces. "Drift..." Wing bursts into tears and closes his optics, silently praying for Drift and guidance to help him. 

Drift shakes terribly and spreads his legs wider, his hip joints straining. Why couldn't Wing be different? Maybe he'll be gentle? The speedster shuts his optics tight, his intakes hitching when he feels Wing get up. Oh frag! He hears Wing open a cabinet and tries to fight back a whimper. He's toying with me...prolonging it to make it worse.... What's in there? What is he gonna put in me? 

Wing's hands tremble as he digs through his cabinet looking for a blanket, his optics blurry from the tears. Primus... Oh, Primus please help this poor spark... Wing had to swallow down his rage when Drift spread his legs wider. He feels like purging. For Drift. To react like that... The jet can't...he just can't... 

There! Perfect. Wing finds the blanket he was looking for. It's super soft and thick and fluffy. It's what the jet wraps himself in when he's hurting. 

Wing hurries back to Drift and without a second thought he wraps Drift up and pulls the shaking speedster into his lap. Wing cradles Drift in his arms and rocks him. "Oh, sweetspark, no...my beautiful, sweet, sweet spark I will never hurt you. I was not going to take you like that, Drift. I would never. You're safe. Oh, sweetspark, I promise you, you are safe with me," Wing loving nuzzles Drift and kisses the top of his helm, cooing and rocking. "You are safe. You are safe. Let go, little one. Let go." 

Drift gasps as he is covered and pulled into Wings arms. He whimpers, confused, unsure of what to do, wincing when he hears a shrill keen of deep anguish.

Is that Wing? 

Another keen and then a gasping, broken sob. What is th-

Oh. 

It's him.

Drift keens again, a pitiful, terrible sound, so full of pain and fear and shame, and finally breaks down. He buries his face in Wing's chest, clinging to the jet as he sobs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An update! Thank you soooo much to all of you who have stuck with me and been so very patient with me. It means the world to me. Like, you've no idea how much! I didn't forget about any of my fics I promise you. I have two more I'm working on and I am updating all of them every day or so. It's just slow going. Things are... Well, shit sucks. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. =) As always, comments (nice ones) are welcome.

Wing's spark aches as he listens to the tank wrenching sobs from Drift. Oh you poor spark. You poor, poor spark. The jet softly rocks with the bundle in his arms, humming an old Cybertronian lullaby Redline would sing to him when he was upset. Wing lovingly nuzzles Drift and gently-ever so gently-rubs his back and finials. 

 

"That's it, my sweetspark, let it out. You're safe. You're safe, Drift."

 

Oh, Drift...how could anyone hurt you like this. Wing is absolutely spark sick for the speedster. The jet is at a loss of what to do as Drift continues to sob into his chest, so he just continues to rock with the speedster and lovingly rub his back and Drift's rather adorable finials. Wing really should comm Redline. Wing needs to know just how severe Drift's case is. Wing has his suspicions and he really doesn't like the road they're leading him down. From the way Drift reacted it isn't good and, unfortunately, it explains an awful lot...words like post traumatic stress, abuse, humiliation...rape...assault...fill the jets processor and it breaks his spark. He pulls Drift closer and holds him protectively,putting a comm through to Redline. 

 

::Redline? Do you have a moment? ::

 

::For you, Winglet? Always. What can I do for you?::

 

Wing smiles to himself, Winglet. Oh, Red. ::Thank you, Red. Oh! No, it's not me. It's Drift. He's...Red... I think....can you come to my suite? Please?::

 

Frowning, Redline stops midway through stocking the medical supply cabinet, cradling a bundle of mesh bandages to his chest, just as his assistant Post Op walks in. Shift change already? Oh...it is late. Well that works out. ::Wing? Is he okay? Did something happen? Drift is still healing....his self repair is almost non-existent...Did he fuel? Wing? ::

 

::Redline, he's fine. We'll, medically anyway...I think... What do you mean his self repair is non-existent? ::

 

::Wing...I..... I'm on my way. :: Redline hands the bundle of mesh bandages to Post Op and smiles a little. 

 

::Thank you, Redline:: Wing frowns and sighs. 

 

::You're welcome, Winglet. ::

 

Post Op frowns as he takes the bundle from his mentor. "What's wrong, sir?" 

 

"Nothing, Post Op, I'm fine," Quick survey of the medibay...check....everything is fine... Check... 

 

"With all due respect, Redline, I know that look. So what's up?"

 

Redline smirks at his assistant, proud. "That's why I took you on, Post Op, your keen observation skills," His smirk fades. "I just got a comm from Wing. Something is up with Drift and he asked me to come by. And as it's late, well..." 

 

"You worry, " Post Op smiles and ushers Redline out."Go. I got this, boss."

 

"Thank you, Post Op," Redline smiles sincerely and rushes out of his medibay. 

 

***

 

Drift hates crying and yet he's helpless to stop. It makes him weak. Exposed. Vulnerable. It's shameful. Pathetic. And he damn well doesn't like ANY of those things. He especially doesn't like crying in front of anyone either. Yet here he is, pathetic as always, bawling like a worthless new frame in Wing's lap.

 

Wing's warm lap. 

 

Fragging jet is always warm! And now that blasted jet is rubbing his....his f-finials. Oh...oh that feels nice. R-Really nice. H-How did Wing know? It feels so good. No one ever touches him without the intent to hurt him. Though there was that one time...a long time... 

 

The Dead End...that medic....that medic with the clinic. What was his name? 

 

Ratchet. 

 

Ratchet. He really liked Ratchet. The medic did something to his spark. Warmed it. Made it flutter and stuff. Ratchet was so kind and so careful with him. Gentle. And he craved that touch. Drift hasn't been touched like that since Ratchet. Well, there was Gasket... Gasket. Gasket made his spark do all kinds of things. Gasket was the first person to ever care about him. To ever be nice to him. Oh, Gasket...Drift misses him so much. Misses Gasket so much it HURTS. Those were the only two mechs who ever gave a turbo rat's aft about him and now he'll never see either of them again. He sobs all the harder and digs his fingers into Wing's plating, clinging on to the jet tightly. 

 

Wing curls around Drift the best he can when Drift starts to sob again and lovingly nuzzles the shaking speedster. "I'm here, sweetspark. I'm here. You're safe. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." And there goes his spark breaking again... 

 

Drift sobs brokenly into Wing, his intakes and motor hiccuping in his distress. He loses control over his field and it whips out almost violently against Wing's field. 

 

Wing gasps at the sudden onslaught from Drift's field. The hurt and the desperate need to be loved in the former Decepticon's field is staggering and it grips the jet's spark tightly. He floods his own field with love/comfort/safety and holds Drift tight. 

 

Redline hears the sobbing as he arrives at Wing's suite, pausing in front of Wing's door, and it breaks his spark. ::I'm here, Wing. Shall I come in silently? ::

 

Wing sags in relief when Redline comm's him. ::Yes. Yes, please, Redline. ::

 

::Coming in now. :: Redline quietly opens the door and steps inside Wing's suite, locking the door once it slides closed. Redline softly walks through the sitting area and into the berth room, frowning sadly when he sees Wing and Drift. Holding his hand over his spark, wishing he could heal wounds of the spark and mind, the medic takes a seat on the chest at the foot of Wing's large berth and smiles sadly.

 

Wing looks helplessly over at Redline, returning the sad smile with a shrug, and tenderly rubs Drift's finials, his soothing touches lulling Drift into recharge. 

 

Redline stretches and peers over at Drift, checking to see if he is asleep. Once satisfied the speedster is recharging, he speaks softly. "Poor mech is so exhausted," Red moves his gaze from Drift to Wing, "What happened, Winglet?" 

 

Wing frowns and leans back against the helm board, sighing heavily. "Drift's been having nightmares. I think about his past. They wake him up and he can't settle back down into recharge. He just woke from one a couple hours ago. I told him enough is enough, you know? He can't go on like this. He needs to recharge, Red. He needs it desperately. We argued a bit and then he... I don't know.... He just looked so...so sad...and so utterly lost that I couldn't help myself. I hugged him," The tears well up and burst from his optics. "R-Red....he flinched! Tensed up! He thought I was going to hit h-him..." Shaking his helm, he pulls his entire quivering lower lip into his mouth, trying to steady his wavering vocalizer "Oh, Red....he's been hurt so bad.... I... I think he's been hurt his whole life... I... I told him to sit on the berth, I thought maybe he'd be comfortable and ....and....and...oh, Primus... Red....he laid down on his chest, spread his l-legs shamelessly wide-I KNOW his hip cabling snapped or something-and hiked his aft up. Then he opened his....his..." Damn! His vision is getting blurry from his tears and he's not letting Drift go just to wipe his optics... 

 

Redline remains quiet as he listens, his spark breaking and tank churning, pieces now fitting together to form a truly horrific picture. Frowning, he notices Wing's tears and stands up. He pulls a soft handkerchief out of his subspace as he walks over to the bundle on the berth, and gently clears the tears from Wing's optics. With a heavy sigh and warm, reassuring smile, Redline sits on the berth, careful not to jostle Drift. "And?" 

 

Wing sniffles and smiles sadly back at Red. "He opened his v-valve panel and cover... Red, he was terrified. Completely and utterly terrified. His frame was shaking, he was gripping the blankets... It broke my spark. The only thing I could think to do was wrap him in this blanket and cradle him in my arms. I think.... I'm pretty certain of it, actually, that he was raped and beaten. And not just once. Redline, I need to know. I need to know if I'm right. I have to help him."

 

Redline intakes deeply and vents heavily. He knew this conversation was going to happen sooner rather than later, but..."Wing, I can't...Drift is my patient..."

 

"Redline, I'm not asking you, his doctor, to betray your oath, I'm asking you, my creator, to help me save the mech I love,"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Talk. Wing finally gets Red to stop stalling. 
> 
> Redline and Axe have a theory. And it's a secret.
> 
> One slip during The Talk is all it takes for Wing to figure it out. Ahhh.... But that's a talk for another day....... 
> 
>  
> 
> Not if Wing has anything to say about it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for your endless support and very kind words. It means the world to me. It really does. And it made me remember that I'm a fighter. I will not quit. =) 
> 
> I do so hope you all enjoy this chapter. It has taken a life of its own now and is going to be huge. Oh the might and tenacity of the muse! Off we go....

Redline sighs and smiles softly at his creation. "Love, hm?" 

 

Wing blushes, his helm fins flaring out and fluttering, and gently pulls Drift closer. "Yes, creator. Love. I love Drift. I've loved him since the moment I first laid my optics upon him. And I love him with all of my spark. So much so it hurts. I hate to see him like this. Suffering. It breaks my spark to see him in such agony." 

 

And here we go. Wing's been preparing for this argument. Oh yes he has. Deep intake. "And...well, I AM his primary care giver. I alone am responsible for him. And that means it is my-" 

 

Redline cuts Wing off before his creation launches into a quiet tirade and further upsets himself. Oh, Winglet..."I yield, my creation. I yield. It hadn't occurred to me that you are, in fact, his primary care giver, though it should have considering Drift is your responsibility after all and-" 

 

"-And that I am the only one here who cares about him," Wing scowls at the floor, unwilling to meet his creator's optics. 

 

Redline frowns and furrows his optic ridges. "Now, Winglet, you know that just isn't true. Axe and I BOTH care a great deal about Drift," Axe especially, Redline thinks, and if what we think is true....No. Now is not the time to share that theory with Wing. Not yet. The medic's tone softens as he continues, "... So he does have a support system here and we will most certainly not turn our backs on him when he needs us. Ever." Redline chides gently and smiles softly before getting up. 

 

Unashamed of his previous words, Wing smiles(with only a hint of smugness) up at Redline, who has retrieved another blanket and is now covering Drift. "Thank you, creator," He says sincerely, truly meaning it, and it shows too. He knows Redline and Axe love Drift as well and that they too would do anything for Drift. Without question. Drift wormed his way into all their sparks quick and fierce. 

 

Redline gently strokes Drift's finial, his spark just absolutely aching for the little speedster. So much trauma... so much abuse this sweet mech has suffered in his young life. How brutally unfair. How utterly wrong. How will he ever tell Axe? 

 

Dear Primus.

 

_Axe._

 

Red softly kisses the side of Drift's helm before sitting back down on the berth. "You are welcome, my Winglet. So, what is it exactly you are asking me?" 

 

"I...I want-I need- to know what happened to Drift. I need you to tell me what you know. I want to help him....to understand him...and...and I am loathe to ask him to relive it. Tonight...what I...what I saw... He hurts so badly, Creator. He wants to be loved and cared for so much-he NEEDS IT-but he's so terrified of being hurt...Oh, Creator, he's been hurt so badly for such a long t-time... " Wing's spark leaps into his throat, tears welling up in his optics again. His poor Drift! Just the thought of his perfect, beautiful, sweet speedster being hurt like that...over and over and over.... 

 

"My sweet Winglet, you have such a _good_ spark. I'm so very proud of you," Redline reaches over and squeezes Wing's forearm, field full of love/pride/affection /comfort. 

 

"Thank you," Wing gives Red a knowing look, though he truly does appreciate his creator's words, the jet's questions need answers. And before Drift wakes up. "... but, Creator, I know you're stalling," 

 

Redline sighs and smoothes out the blanket over Drift. "Perhaps I am. Very well. As you already know Drift has had a very, very hard, traumatic life-"

 

"Horrifying and unspeakable and cruel and terrible and mean are more like it-" 

 

"I agree, but are you going to listen or interrupt, Winglet?"

 

Wing bites his lower lip he flushes with embarrassment. "Sorry, Creator," 

 

Redline smiles softly and pats Wing's hand. "I know, my creation, it's alright. There are many, and yet, not enough words to accurately describe how wrong and painful Little One's young life has been thus far,"

 

"Little One?" The corner of Wing's mouth curls up in a playfully suspicious smile. 

 

Redline's helm fins flicker and his wings twitch at his slip. "Ah...yes, well," Sigh. No going back now. "Axe has taken to calling Drift his Little One," 

 

To say Wing's optics widen is a gross understatement. "'His Little One'? Creator...." 

 

Redline sighs and nods slowly. "Yes, but now is not the time for that particular discussion, Winglet. We can discuss that later."

 

Could that mean what Wing has been suspecting is true? "That we will. Immediately after this one." Wing insists. 

 

"Immediately after, Winglet, but not here, not in front of Drift," 

 

Wing purses his lips. "Fine. Now can we please stop dancing?" 

 

Redline shakes his helm and smiles, sighing heavily. "Very well, my stubborn Creation." He takes a moment to look at Drift: snuggled and curled up as small as he can be nestled in Wing's lap, helm resting on Wing's chest, finials tucked under the jet's chin, peacefully recharging, looking astonishingly young, an almost-smile on his face. "I'm very glad he is finally recharging. I'll look at his hips when he wakes up-you said you thought he snapped a cable or something?" 

 

"Yes. I think he hurt himself. Stop stalling, Creator, please."

 

"Very well then. When you first brought Drift to me he needed more repairs than simply a rebuild from the waist up. His thighs were stained with energon and he had multiple gashes, lacerations, dents, faulty welds and patch jobs, torn lines, shredded cables, damaged struts... I was amazed Drift was able to walk," He takes a deep intake and rubs at his face. "He was a _mess,_ Wing. I had to repair what was left of his valve. But I couldn't, could I? His valve was ruined, Wing. Ruined," And now the anger builds. "His calipers were stretched and hyperextended, the walls were severely scarred and torn. His sensitive nodes were crushed...internal organs were shifted, sometimes far, from their original location. Dear Primus the poor mech must have been in incredible agony. It was beyond repair. He was leaking internally and the only way to repair his valve was to install a new one. Complete with seals. Why? Because I will be _damned_ if he doesn't get a second chance at having them broken by someone who loves him this time," Red wipes the tears from his optics, taking a moment before he continues, the anger at what was done to Drift now turning to sadness. "So replace it I did. I then put his organs back where they belong. Now, you must understand that that much damage happens but one way. That poor mech was horrifically abused in the most intimate of places. It was repetitive and cruel, calculated and unending. And recent. His spike also suffered abuse. I did not replace it though as it was not warrant it. Unfortunately though his spike is scarred, but healed. The damage was recent as well. Someone welded his spike cover and panel shut. He now has scarring there as well. I was able to replace the cover and panel. His spark chamber was violated as well, Winglet. Drift has suffered more than anyone I have ever repaired. The damage...the scarring I encountered during his repairs are beyond the likes of which I have ever seen. What is worse, so much worse, are the emotion wounds and trauma that I cannot heal. Drift is the strongest mech I have ever met. And you, my beautiful, caring and so very kind creation...you have such strength and love inside you... I know that you can heal what I could not." Redline wipes at his tears as he finally looks over at his Creation and smiles lovingly, not at all surprised to see tears streaming down the jet's face or the fiercely protective way he is holding Drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to anna1795! In her fic "Skin Deep" she brought up that Wing was Drift's primary care giver and that made such sense to me. I was struggling with just how to have Redline tell Wing about Drift and this was perfect. So, anna1795, I thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it has been awhile, a long while, and for that I truly, sincerely apologize. I've not been well and I am on new meds... Got a puppy... Anyway, I hope this makes up for it. I wasn't sure where to end this chapter so.... Miss Anon, I love you dearly and I will get back to you. Your comments and concern are my light, so this chapter is for you.
> 
>  
> 
> /Bond communication/

Axe paces back and forth in the sitting area of his and Redline's suite, processor consumed with one single thought. And that thought has him far too...well, what is he anyway? Anxious? Yes. Excited? Absolutely. Nervous? You bet. Angry? Terrified? Sparkbroken? Without a doubt! "ARGH!" He roars and slams his fit into the wall leaving a sizable dent. "Damn it!" He checks the time. His mate's shift was over an hour ago. "Where the Pit are you, Red? I need you..." Washing his face with hands, the large triple-changer resumes his pacing. "I should see where he is..." Before he opens and contacts Redline through their bond, a wave of comfort/love/relax/reassurance fills his end of the bond from Red. 

Axe smiles to himself and immediately calms, sitting down on the edge of the berth. /Am I that obvious, dear? /

Redline chuckles softly, hoping Wing knows it's not at him. /Just a bit, my darling. I'm with Winglet and Drift. Relax, everything is fine. I'll be up to berth shortly, Wing just had some questions./

Wing cants his helm questioningly at his creator. Ahhh...that's why... noticing the glazed looked in Redline's optics and the medic's distant expression, Wing realizes Redline and Axe are speaking over their spark bond. The jet hums thoughtfully and kisses the top of Drift's helm, gently rubbing one of the speedster's finials. Oh, Drift...Wing had no idea it was that bad for him. No idea at all. Oh sure, he had his suspicions, especially after Drift's reaction...but...dear Primus...millions of years of abuse and torture and pain on top of neglect and abandonment...poor Drift... It breaks Wing's spark. 

Axe jumps to his pedes, his large, scarred warrior hands closing over his chest when Redline mentions Drift, his spark suddenly hammering and leaping into his throat, despite his mate's assurances. /My Little One! Is he alright?! What's wrong? Love...please...if something is wrong....please tell me... /

It warms Redline's spark every time he hears his mate refer to Drift as his Little One. /Darling, he is fine. I promise you. I will be right there. I love you, Axe./ Redline reinforces his words with love, strength and comfort in their bond. 

/Alright.... I trust you. You know that. Just...hurry back to me, love. I miss you. And it's late/ Axe smirks, sending a pulse of playfulness to accompany his words, as he walks out onto their balcony. He draws comfort from the feelings Redline sends across their bond, returning Red's love with gratefulness, the knot in his tank finally loosening. With a heavy sigh through his vents, Axe leans on the railing, his gaze settling on the slumbering city beneath him. "Oh my Little One..."

 

Wing smiles tiredly and leans back, his helm thunking softly on the berth's helm board as he looks at his creator. Primus he's exhausted. "You need to go," 

Returning the tired smile Redline stands up. "I do. And you need to recharge, my creation," He carefully pulls the blanket up and over Wing's shoulder and tucks both his creation and Drift in. "We can finish this in the morning, well, afternoon, considering how very early in the cycle it is." The doctor kisses his creation's forehelm then reaches over and turns off the lamp on Wing's nightstand. 

"I'll help him, Creator. I'll take such good care of him. I promise." Wing yawns and feels his optics close. 

"I know you will, my creation." Redline smiles lovingly, kissing his creation on the forehelm one last time. "I'm so very proud of you, Wing and I love you so very much."

Big yawn."Mmm...I," Even bigger yawn. So tired... So, so tired... "...I love you.....too," Yaaaaaawnnnn. "Cre .... ator...." 

"Goodnight, Winglet. Goodnight, Little One." Redline smiles affectionately and quietly leaves, making sure to code the locks so that only himself, Axe, and Wing can get in or out. The fear of Drift running and getting himself hurt-or worse-prevents Red from adding Drift to the short list. Redline makes his way to their suite via the kitchen, grabbing two large mugs of warm spiced energon and a few energon jellies (with Axe's favorite nickel and copper shaving toppings) before entering their suite. 

Guided by their bond, Redline has no trouble in locating his mate. He walks out onto the balcony, placing the jellies on the table before slipping alongside Axe. "Hello, my darling," He hands Axe the mug and wraps his now free arm around Axe's waist, sending a strong pulse of love/affection/comfort over their bond. 

 

Axe grins and turns to face Redline, gratefully accepting the mug and taking a long drink. He moans softly in pleasure at the taste and wraps his arm around Red, pulling the smaller mech into his arms. "Hello, my love, and thank you for the warm spiced energon," Axe leans down and kisses the top of Red's helm, speaking against it with a smile. "It hits the spot. You always know just what I need."

Redline laughs a light, airy laugh and sets his mug down on the thick railing so he can hug the love of his life. "Mmm...do I now?" Thin, skilled fingers work their way over sensitive rubber treads, drawing a low, husky moan from their prey. 

A sensual shiver works it way through Axe, forcing him to set his mug besides Redline's, and embrace his very talented spark mate with both arms. His hands, quite talented in their own right, find their way to a very lovely set of hips and squeeze, pulling the owner of said hips tight against him. "Oh yeah," 

And now it's Red's turn to shiver; the way Axe's voice deepens, taking on that sensuous, husky tone when he's aroused, the feel of that powerful, sexy frame pressed tight to his just ignites Red's thrusters. And those big, strong hands on his hips... "Axe..." 

"Red..." Fraggin' Pit his mate is hot! 

THWIP! Annnnnd there go his wings: opening up to their full span the minute Red hears Axe speak Red's name in that delicious voice of his. Red's own voice comes out in a squeak. "A-Axe..." His wings tremble with anticipation, excitement and their bond floods with arousal/need/desire/lust/love from both ends. 

Oh those beautiful wings... "Damn, love, you are the sexiest mech I've ever seen," Axe grins, his powerful engine revving hard at the gorgeous sight of his mates' wings, and effortlessly picks Red up. Holding the doctor with one arm, Axe uses his free hand to pet a perfect wing and then squeeze a sexy aft, delighting in the wanton moan he pulls from Red. 

"D-Darling..." Warmth spreads from Redline's trembling wings straight to his spark and then onward to his interface array. He wraps his arms around Axe's neck and pulls himself closer. Golden optics twinkle with mischief as they meet blue and Red smirks when Axe's intakes hitch because of it. Redline purrs a sultry little purr and gently nips the edge of Axe's helm fin. Red's so revved up that his valve lubricant is already leaking out from behind his panel and onto Axe's belly. And oooooh Axe's belly is so nice and warm. "Mmm...Axe..." Red moans in Axe's audial, nibbling and suckling on the edges of Axe's helm fin, rubbing and sliding his soaked panel over his spark mate's belly. Oh but does his bonded turn him on. 

Axe whimpers, his knees nearly buckling when Red nibbles at his audial flare. "Red... I need you... " His spike bangs hard against his panel in a desperate attempt to be free the moment Axe feels his mates delicious lubricant and hot panel gliding over his belly. ".... And I am taking you to berth, my dear doctor," With a lustfull growl and hungry grin, Axe smashes his lips to Redline's and carries his doctor inside. 

Redline's spark fills with warmth and he floods their bond with love/devotion/affection/lust/desire. "Y-Yes..." he sighs needily into Axe's mouth as Axe hungrily kisses him. 

Within moments they collapse onto their berth, a tangle of limbs and a symphony of excited engines. Redline whimpers and opens his valve panel and cover, hands all over his mate, legs wrapping around Axe's hips. "P-Please..."

Axe groans into Redline's mouth then starts a hot trail of kisses down Redline's jaw and neck, hand sliding over a smooth thigh, his spike panel and cover snapping open." Red...oh, Red..." With a low growl Axe very gently noses his very large, very pressurized spike inside his mate, slowly pressing in to the hilt. He smiles lovingly and nuzzles Redline affectionately, tenderly kissing the love of his life along those beautiful helm fins, whispering softly. "I love you, Red... I love you so much..." 

Redline moans and gasps, tipping his hips up to meet Axe, Red's warmth inviting Axe's enormous swell deep inside, calipers stretching deliciously eliciting yet another husky moan from the doctor. "Axe... Mmmm.....yeeeees..." Redline leans into his mates gentle nuzzling, shivering and gasping at those lovely kisses to his helm fins. "Oh, my darling, I love you with all my spark," His fingers dip into Axe's hip seams, knowingly tugging a few wire clusters, hoping to pull a groan of pleasure from his mate.  
Axe treats him with a lustful howl and several deep thrusts, to repay the favor, which have Red writhing beneath him. "Primus, Red, you're so gorgeous," 

Redline blushes brightly, arching his back, wings rapidly fluttering against the silk sheets under him(Red's guilty pleasure: a love of soft,  
silky organic materials). "A-Axe! Oh, Axe! Ah! Ah! It's alllllllll your f-fault!" He gasps and rolls his hips into those exquisite thrusts, his arms falling behind his helm,alternating between grabbing the sheets, clinging to the helm board and touching Axe's chest. 

"Frag! Red!!" Axe hangs his helm, forehelm touching Red's chest every time his bonded arches up into him overcome with ecstasy. Axe is panting, his engine roaring as he chases their pleasure. Oh it... "... Feels so g-good.... Red..." He's close. Red is too. He can feel it in their bond. Their pleasure is one. 

"Axe! Axe! Axe I... I...I-I-I-I-AHHHH!" Redline bows his back perfectly-

-Axe curls his arm around Redline, the other arm holding the jet up, cradling his Conjunx Endura close. Axe throws his helm back, roaring, "REDLINE!" with a snarl as he overloads intensely along with his mate. 

Ripples of brilliant blue charge crackle as they snake their way over both Axe and Redline's frames. Their fans strain to cool their protoform, the soft symphony of engines ticking and metal pinging adding to the orchestra of their passions. 

Smiling softly, hanging limp, completely spent, in Axe's arm, Redline lets out a blissful moan. "Darling..."

With a groan Axe pulls his hips back and slides his spike free. "Primus, love..." Axe chuckles softly and flops on his back, pulling Redline gently onto his chest so he can pet and caress Red's wings. "You, are amazing...." 

"Well you're pretty amazing yourself, my darling," Mmm....Redline does love his wings rubbed. He stretches his wings then leaves them to lay flat along his back, purring happily, tracing glyphs of love onto Axe's chest with his finger. 

Axe smiles softly and kisses the top of Redline's helm. Finally relaxed enough to think clearly, his thoughts stray back to Drift. His Little One. "I know he's mine, Red. I feel it in my spark every time I look at the lad,"

Redline intakes deeply. Here we go. Red has been waiting for this. He too has had his suspicions which is why he had Post Op run the paternity test. The CNA came back at a ninety-nine point nine percent match. The spark frequency was identical. Drift is Axe's creation. Redline has known since this morning. And now Red has to tell his bonded, his love, his Endura, that his creation has survived a life of trauma, interface abuse and assault, countless rapes, prostitution, emotional abuse, physical abuse, starvation....the list goes on and on and on, and Red is terrified Axe will blame himself. "Axe...my darling..." Redline sits up and places his hand on Axe's chest. 

"Love?" Axe folds his hand over Redline's and sits up, keeping Red's hand over his spark. "The results...dear Primus...you have them..." He brings Redline's hand to his mouth and softly kisses those perfect fingers then places them back over his spark. "Red..." Tears well up in the big mech's optics, one deciding to roll down a smooth cheek.  
Oh you beautiful mech you... Redline smiles lovingly, reaching up with his free hand to gently brush the lone tear from his beloved's cheek. "My darling, I have much to tell you and it is going to break your spark when you hear it, for it has certainly broken mine. But for all that is broken, all is not lost, nor beyond repair, and you, my beautiful, wonderful you," The dam has now burst from behind Red's optics. "...my beloved Endura, you are the hand that will mend, that will heal." 

Axe squeezes his optics shut, the tears he had sequestered, now escaping upon hearing the implications in his mates words. "Oh, Red..." He pulls Redline into his arms and buries his face into the doctor's neck. 

"He's yours, my darling. Drift is your creation. There is no doubt, my love," Redline wraps his arms around Axe, kissing the side of Axe's helm before gently guiding that beautiful helm into his lap. 

"Thank Primus!" Axe chokes out a sob of relief and joy, laying down curled around Red with his helm in Redline's lap and his arms around Red's waist. "Little One is really mine. I knew he was, Red. I knew it!" Joy is quickly replaced with righteous rage at what was denied both Axe and his creation. "They took him from me and told me they killed him! Those fraggers stole my creation!! I never should have believed them, Red... I should have fought harder to escape... I should have-" 

"No, Axe," Redline soothingly strokes and pets Axe's helm fins and chevron. "You were a prisoner in the Pits. What were you to have done? It's not your fault, sweetspark. I promise you that. You cannot blame yourself, please, my love,"

 

"They pulled him from my arms, Red! Ripped him away from me...he was so little, Red. So tiny... so perfect and beautiful...a-and...and they just took ...they took my beautiful creation away....they tossed my Little One into the gutter! MY LITTLE ONE !! They told me they killed him! And I believed them! How could I believe them? How could I not know he was still alive?!" Axe howls in rage and pain, tears threatening to burst from his optics and stream down his face. His creation has had such a hard life. Primus knows he has. But... Axe needs to know it all. Needs to know as much as he can. "Show me, Red," He flips open his data input panel on his arm and unspools his wire, watching as Redline shakily takes Axe's wire and plugs it in Red's input port then plugs Red's wire into Axe's port. The data transfer begins and before long Axe knows all that Redline knows about Drift's past that was learned through Drift's rebuild,his medical exam, and the conversation Redline just had with Wing. Axe knows it all now. From the gutter to the starving buymech and addict, to the monster-Turmoil-Drift served under. Axe will not forget that name. And if he ever finds Turmoil, he's dead. 

Oh my Little One...my precious, perfect creation... 

Axe, spark completely shattered, overcome with powerful emotions, finally breaks down, grieving for what was lost and what Drift has suffered. Deep down Axe knows he's barely scratched the surface of all his creation has survived. 

Redline soothingly strokes Axe's helm fins, gently petting and rubbing down his neck to his shoulders, and then on to his back where Red massages Axe's treads, working the tension out. Red happily continues, pleased that his mate is slowly relaxing under his skillful hands and he fills their bond with love/comfort/peace/calm/strength/reassurance. 

"Oh, Red...what do I do? I want to tell him. He needs to know. He deserves to know...but...but how am I to tell him?"

Redline kisses the top of his mates helm and curls around him. "I wish I knew, my darling. I wish I knew..."


End file.
